


I Am A Rock

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Academy days, Angst, Character Background, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: Early days at the Bay City Police Academy
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	I Am A Rock

**Author's Note:**

> This story hasn't been beta'd or even very well proof-read. The Friday Fiction Prompt (posted today, on Saturday) on the Starsky&Hutch Fans&FanFiction FaceBook page grabbed me and wouldn't let go. The prompt was the story's title. Thanks, Paula.

Dave Starsky lay on his bed and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that threatened. Starsky men didn’t cry! Not when physically hurt, and not when mentally devastated, either. He’d managed to keep his despair inside when his father had died; not one tear had fallen. He didn’t think his mother had even noticed, since she was completely occupied with his younger brother, Nicky, and how he had taken Pop’s murder. Nicky, at eight, had screamed, blubbered, and carried on for weeks, inconsolable. Dave, on the other hand, had shouldered the mantel of Man of the House, and tried to soldier on. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Until now.

Vietnam had been a hell but he had survived. Those memories were locked in a secure compartment at the back of his mind, hopefully never to be accessed again. 

He’d come back to the States, taken his honorable discharge and medals - which he swore no one would ever see - and had tried to figure out where he fit into the world of 1969.

Driving a cab, being a nightclub bouncer, delivering newspapers, working part-time for a construction company, plus other odd jobs hadn’t seemed like anything except dead ends. It wasn’t until his Aunt Rose and Uncle Al’s neighbor, John Blaine, had suggested the Bay City Police Academy, that Starsky had seen a glimmer of hope in his future. It was something Pop would have approved of and he jumped at the chance.

He didn’t make friends easily, though. His carefully constructed walls of prickly assertiveness, plus intimidating excellence in hand-to-hand combat and weapons skills put the other cadets off. Starsky didn’t much care; he was here to become a member of the BCPD. He was determined to be the best cop in the department and no one was going to distract him from that goal. After he got his badge would be time enough to make friends. Even though he wasn’t sure he was capable of letting anyone get close to him. 

The blond Minnesotan, Hutchinson, had seemed to be interested in being a friend but Starsky kept the good-looking mid-westerner at arm’s length. He didn’t trust himself enough to welcome someone inside his fortress. Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘I Am A Rock’ had become his theme song. He knew every word by heart and lived by them: he kept himself to himself because it was the best way to avoid getting hurt. He’d seen too much anguish in ‘Nam when a guy became close friends with a buddy. Too often, that buddy ended up dead and the survivor, becoming careless, soon died, too.

Nope, no ties with anyone, he’d decided! That was the only way to live these days. He’d worry about making friends, looking for love, after he’d established himself as an outstanding member of the Bay City Police Department.

All those positive thoughts and actions had been before today, though. A critical support in the middle of a high, complex fence unit on the obstacle course had given way as Starsky scrambled over it, and the entire structure had ended up on top of him. The wounded leg he’d brought back from ’Nam had been gouged by a beam and he'd been bleeding heavily from a gashed femoral artery when the instructors had gotten him out of the collapsed mess. Four of his classmates, including Hutchinson, had carried him to the infirmary. Hutchinson had even insisted on accompanying him to the hospital and, apparently, had waited outside the E.R. while his leg was stitched up and he was given two pints of blood. 

It was Hutchinson who, four hours later, had driven him back to the academy in a black-and-white he’d bussed back to the campus and borrowed from the driving course. Starsky was grateful but, afraid that his career as a budding police officer was over, he was silent most of the way.

“Listen, Starsky,” Hutchinson had said, “you’re going to be okay. I talked to your doctot and he told me you’ll be off that leg for a couple of weeks but the damage wasn’t bad enough to wash you out.”

Starsky had turned to stare at Hutchinson. What did he know about how important being a cop was to Starsky? Besides, it wasn’t his leg that was throbbing to beat the band; it wasn’t his future in jeopardy. “Whadda you know?” he had muttered.

Obviously not deterred, Hutchinson had continued. “You’re so far ahead of the rest of us in the physical stuff, we’ll be happy to see you on the sidelines for a few days. Give us a chance to catch up.” He had tried a smile but the radiance had glanced off Starsky’s stubborn barricades. 

With the help of a pair of crutches Hutchinson had picked up from the infirmary after borrowing the squad car, Starsky had made his way to his second floor dorm room, asked his roommate, John Colby, to find some other place to be for a while, and slammed the door behind him.

Now, curled on his narrow cot, he fought back the tears. _I am not gonna lose it,_ he thought. _Shit! I’ve been through worse than this!_

But he was worried. What if the doctor was wrong? What if his leg didn’t heal quick enough? What if he had to drop out of this class and wait for the next one? What if….”

A knock sounded on the door. After what seemed like an eternity, the door was opened a little and Hutchinson stuck his head in. “Want some company?”

Starsky tensed. He hoped his unresponsiveness would convince the intruder to leave him alone. 

“Too bad.” The blond pushed the door open, entered and closed it behind him. Drawing the desk’s straight-backed chair up to the side of the bed, he sat down.

“You’re pushy, Hutchinson.”

“Not usually. I’m more of a let-somebody-else-take-the-point kind of guy.” He shrugged. “From necessity, I guess. The kids in school called me a brainiac. I was a little clumsy, however, so they didn’t want me on any of their teams. I cruised through college, top of my class, married my high school sweetheart but we got divorced after she miscarried with our first child. I’m married again and my new wife is just about ready to ditch me.”

In spite of himself, Starsky watched the man seated in front of him more closely. He didn’t appear embarrassed by what he was saying, he sounded as if he was talking to an old friend. Starsky was intrigued.

“Tried law school,” Hutchinson continued, “mostly to appease my father, but couldn’t stand it. Then I talked Vanessa into coming out to California and enrolled in med school.” Another shrug. “That didn’t take either.”

By now, Starsky was fascinated. He sat up and scooted to the head of the bed, his back against the wall. When he tried to wedge his pillow under this bandaged thigh, Hutchinson jumped up and helped him. 

“You cold?” Hutchinson asked.

Realizing he was, Starsky nodded. Quick as a flash, Hutchinson grabbed the blanket off the foot of the bed and whipped it around Starsky’s shoulders. 

“There.” He sat down again. “Where was I?”

“Vanessa? Med school?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, when I quit UCLA and enrolled here, Van threatened to divorce me. I talked her into letting me give this a try but I know I’m on shaky ground.” He grimaced. “That was probably a bad thing to say, considering how close we are to the San Andreas fault.”

Starsky couldn’t help but smile. “You ace all the written stuff. You’re gonna graduate top of the class here, too.”

“Brainiac, remember?” Hutchinson had the decency to blush.

“Could use some help with your hand-to-hand, though,” Starsky observed with a smile.

Hutchinson’s flush deepened and he gestured toward Starsky’s leg. “Soon as you’re back on your feet, think you could coach me?”

That took Starsky by surprise. “I don’t know…”

Hutchinson shrugged again. “That’s okay. I don’t want to impose.” He got to his feet. “Guess I’d better go, let you get some sleep.”

For some reason, Starsky suddenly didn’t want Hutchinson to leave. “Not tired.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit down. Tell me more about yourself.”

Hutchinson sat, clearly surprised and glad to be invited. “Nothing much more to tell, really. My parents were always disappointed in everything I ever tried to do to please them, so I left home as early as I could. College was okay but, since then, I haven’t been able to find what I’m looking for.” He gestured around. “I’m really hoping police work is it.” 

Starsky felt the sky-blue eyes staring at him and, almost unwillingly, he met the gaze. 

“What about you?” the blond asked.

Starsky pulled the blanket more tightly around him, trying to rebuild his walls. “Nothin’ t’ tell.”

For a few moments, Hutchinson was silent. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his long-fingered hands clasped. “One of the guys got into your personnel file and most of the information’s all over the academy.”

Starsky was immediately incensed and angry. “Who? They had no right to do that!”

Hutchinson nodded. “I know and I apologize on his behalf. But the point is, everyone’s aware that your father was murdered when you were twelve, you had some trouble after that and your mother sent you out here to California to get you away from… bad influences.”

Despite the blanket, Starsky shivered. 

“You knocked around Bay City while living with your aunt and uncle, getting into a little more trouble, but nothing serious, until you enlisted. Spent eighteen months in Vietnam, decorated many times, were wounded, and sent home.” The look in the blond’s eyes held nothing but compassion. “I protested against the war but I’ve always supported those who served.”

Hutchinson leaned forward and put his right hand on top of the fist Starsky had unconsciously made of his free hand. “I’m pretty familiar with the walls I think you’ve built around yourself,” he said quietly, “because I believe they’re an awful lot like mine.” 

Unexpectedly, Hutchinson took his hand back and pointed toward the corner. “That your guitar?”

Starsky nodded.

“You mind?” Hutchinson was already headed for the case, picked it up and brought it back. Placing it on the floor, he opened the lid and carefully lifted out the inexpensive folk instrument. “My parents were appalled, naturally, when I taught myself to play because all I ever wanted to sing was songs they didn’t want to hear. When Simon and Garfunkel came along, I was utterly lost. Simon wrote words I carved into my heart.” He made sure the guitar was in tune and began to play the opening bars of Starsky’s anthem. “I think this one is Paul’s greatest, so far.”

As soon as the first chords filled the room, Starsky leaned his head back and the tears began, unbidden and unstoppable.

Hutchinson’s voice was as clear and true as any Simon and Garfunkel recording Starsky had ever heard and he found himself singing along as he wept. During the second verse, he realized that he was crying for all the times he’d refused to allow himself that release. Opening his eyes and locking them on Hutchinson’s, they sang the final two lines in unison: “And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.”

Starsky felt as if he should be ashamed but, somehow, looking at the understanding in Hutchinson’s gaze, he wasn’t. He wiped the moisture from his face and nodded at the guitar. “Play some more.”

For the remainder of the afternoon, they both played the guitar and sang every Simon and Gardunkel song they knew and each time they came back to ‘I Am A Rock,’ Starsky felt better. Hutchinson really did understand.

By five o’clock, when dinnertime rolled around, Hutchinson was putting the guitar away as Colby strolled into the room. “You two songbirds are gonna miss the Mystery Meat Surprise if you don’t get a move on!” Without another word, he was gone.

Hutchinson placed the guitar case back in the corner and held Starsky’s crutches out to him. “Care to join me, Starsk?”

Another block of Starsky’s wall crumbled as he got to his feet and fitted the supports under his arms. “Don’t mind if I do… Hutch.”

Humming ‘I am A Rock,’ the new friends walked, side by side, to the cafeteria. 

END

**Author's Note:**

> 'I Am A Rock,' words and music by Paul Simon, 1965


End file.
